Crossed Lines
by jarms
Summary: Leah and Paul had a relationship of the no-strings-attached variety, or so they thought. After a one night stand, guilt overcomes Paul and he runs to Canada. What happens when Leah hunts him down with news from La Push? How many lives will be affected by his following decision(s)? This is a 5 part series (read: an overzealous flashfic) set in an AU.
1. Crossing Lines

**Warning:** _Language throughout, Erotica in a future chapter._

**Suggested Listening:** _"In the Air Tonight" by Phil Collins_

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

_**Author's Note**_**:** This is a three part series. I will post every few days, so within a week or two, this story should be complete. Part two is ready, and I'm currently working on the final installment. If the first chapter seems familiar to you, that's because it's also posted in my "Collection of Drabbles". This series began as a flashfic, then the muse got her hands on it and turned it into something more. Hope you enjoy!

Furthermore, _**Tricky Raven is hosting a silent auction!**_ **Authors** (including me, SQUEE!) **and** **artists are on the auction block** and will go to the highest bidder. If you win, we will create a piece based on your idea! Is there a pairing or a story line you've always wanted to read? Something that's been rolling around in your head that you've always want brought to life? Then this is your chance! Run over to Tricky Raven today to look over the talent on the auction block and get your bid in! Don't miss out—**bidding ends April 21****st**.

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**Crossing Lines**

* * *

He smelled her before she crossed the ridge, heard her before she appeared between the trees. Having not phased in months—just to keep them off his trail—he was surprised at how quickly his lupine reflexes spun his body to face her when she stepped into the clearing. Licking his lips, his tongue caught her scent in the air, and a mix of lavender and pine volleyed over his taste buds…

A flavor he remembered all too well.

"What do you want, Leah?"

Placating hands held up on either side of her head, she froze. "I'm just here to talk."

"I didn't walk all the way out here just so you could hunt me down and yell because I broke the leech lover's heart."

"I'm not here to yell, Paul. But you have to come back to La Push."

He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Once. "We both know that's not gonna happen. So, why'd you really follow me to Canada?"

She glanced at the makeshift campsite.

Stapled to the ground with twigs, the tent was standing—though slightly skewed—and each time the wind sweeping through the mountain's higher elevation slapped against the vinyl shelter, it pushed the support pole a little farther off its axis. The fire in the pit was barely flickering, and the wood waiting in line to be tossed on the dying embers was broken rather than chopped. In his haste to flee, he'd obviously forgotten some basic necessities—like tent stakes, like an ax. But the bow he'd fashioned looked impressive as it leaned up against the closest tree, and the rusty pan used for cooking was still wet from the recent dip he'd given it in the nearby stream just prior to her arrival. Still, Leah had to wonder just how many kills he'd scored considering he wasn't allowing himself to phase—the only lethal method at his disposal.

Because in truth, he was looking a little thin.

Paul may have grown up by meager means, having to improvise with what he could scrounge near the reservation—hot meals manipulated from friends' homes, clothes borrowed from the shelter in Forks, broken toys rescued from random piles of garbage. He'd always been cunning and resourceful.

But a rugged outdoorsman, he was not.

"Maybe the better question is, what are _you_ doing here?" She turned her attention back to him, staring into his chocolate eyes so the intent of her question would not be misunderstood. "Who are you running from, Paul?"

"Definitely not her." He dropped Leah's gaze and walked to a small cluster of young cedars huddled together before the thick of the woods took over. Whispering—"Not Bella"—but knowing the wolf in range could hear the husky timbre that coated his breath, he pushed on a slender trunk…just to occupy his hands.

She tilted her head, watching him toy with the sapling until it cracked. "What are you doing?"

"I need more firewood."

"Do you now?" she mused.

Intrigued by her tone, he looked up to catch her staring at his collection of discarded branches and broken limbs behind the tent—the _four foot high_ collection.

"Anyway, you've just destroyed a young cedar, and unless your inexperienced ass wants to start a forest fire, you should stay away from cedars. Plus, with the heavy smoke," she snapped her wrist toward the gray wisps unfurling from the pit, "you give away your location too easily."

His wolf rose to the surface because she was the only one who ever dared to tell him like it was. She challenged him…was the only one worth the fight—

_Goddammit_. He missed her.

But that stupid Swan with her come-fuck-me tears had gotten his dick confused one night. Then when she ran off whining to baby Alpha the next morning after he didn't call her back…

"What the hell are you doing, Leah? I- I can't do this. We can't." Abandoning the helpless tree, he raked his fingers along his scalp. "I'm so sorry. I wish-"

"It's fine, Paul." She interrupted. "I knew what we were doing. I was able to handle our fucking arrangement—quite literally." She lied. "It was Bella who got attached. Remember?" She deflected.

He'd have given anything to go back in time and commit to Leah. He told her this then, on the mountain, next to the tent. "Fuck, I should've marked you—made it official," he added. Maybe if they would have just communicated…talked about their feelings…what they truly meant to each other…

Maybe if they would have stopped being so goddamn stubborn.

"We had our chance—before we were all enlisted to nurse depressed Bella back to health—but we didn't, and now it's too late." Leah absently tucked a wild hair behind her ear. "You've got to come home though; you don't have a choice."

"Why? What's left for me on the reservation?"

"Bella," she stated without pause. The time for arguments and persuasion was over. "She needs you now, Paul," dropping her eyes to examine her dirt clad feet, she watched, immersed in the quick work of her toe shoveling small pebbles from the earth, "and so will your son once he's born."

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_*Alright, hit me with your thoughts and feels_—_if ya wanna. ;)_


	2. Recrossing Lines

**Suggested Listening:** _"I Found" by Amber Run_

_**Author's Note**_**:** Soooo, there is a chance this three part series may (read: will) be extended to five. The muse is complaining that three chapters won't be enough to adequately portray the events of Paul and Leah's lives, and I'm her bitch. When she talks, I listen. ;)

One thing I want to give you guys a heads up about is that this story is entirely centered around Paul and Leah. What this means is even though there will be others mentioned or referenced by the two main characters, _no one_ else will have any time in the limelight. Also, the entire series spans about five years. So, five chapters, five years. :D

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**Recrossing Lines**

* * *

A storm was coming.

The wind whipped off the churning ocean and blew her short hair in wild patterns, but did nothing to wipe his scent from the air.

Leah's back was to the others. She'd walked off; she needed a little time…a little space.

It was his son's first birthday, and Bella wanted to celebrate on the beach. But didn't she know a storm was coming? Couldn't the one-time, disco-dick lover tell?

God, all anyone had to do was look toward the water. Was it _really_ like the black clouds hanging over the angry bitch of sea twelve miles out didn't give some kind of clue? There were at least ten supernatural wolves at the kid's party for the Spirit's sake! But, no. If Bella wanted it, Bella got it.

Including him…

Goddamn fucking Lahote.

Goddamn fucking storm.

Goddamn fucking tear that just fell off her stupid, goddamn chin.

This was all too much. Too much emotion still pouring out of her after they made peace sixteen months ago atop that mountain—the day she told him Bella was pregnant.

The day she convinced him to return to La Push.

Leah swiped at her cheek, clearing the trail from the runaway tear, determined not to allow another misguided one follow suit.

Damn, she hated vulnerability…and old wounds.

Because old wounds made her vulnerable.

It wasn't her fault every man she ever trusted, every man who promised to cherish her love and keep it safe, had suddenly and inexplicably broken that bond. Whether he vowed to protect her through his words or through his actions mattered not. What _did_ matter was she believed each of them—starting with Sam…

Ending with Paul.

And she couldn't forget her dad.

How many years had it been since he collapsed on the lawn in front of her?

Because of her.

Regardless what the doctor said, regardless that his heart was a ticking time bomb, she only had herself to blame. One slip—one uncontrolled outburst—and a wolf that she never knew resided in her bones came flying out, overlaying its form onto her skin, and pulling the hairpin trigger on her father's heart.

One. _Uncontrolled_. Outburst.

So, yeah. She wiped away the errant tear's track.

So another wouldn't follow.

"Leah."

Not big on surprises, her wolf stirred—a warning snarl issued to the trespasser standing behind her, but the rumbling thunder in the distance camouflaged the sound.

"Are you coming back? People are asking about you."

Gritting her teeth, she clamped down on the beast and spun on her heel. "Who's asking, Paul? Is it Bella? She asking about me?"

He still flinched every time Leah said her name.

Unable to hold her stare, he looked to the ocean. "A storm's coming. She wants to wrap up the party before it hits land." He tossed his glance back to Leah in a half-hearted apology before becoming immensely interested in the broken shells underfoot. "She said we could cut the cake at our house if we ran out of time…ya know…before the storm."

"I do know, Paul. But the storm's already here. Can't you tell?"

"What?" Confusion wrinkled his brow but he kept his head down.

"What the hell do you think we've been living in for the last several years? You think we all transform into magical unicorns and shoot rainbows out our asses?" Her nostrils flared; she closed her eyes to temper her tone and regain her composure before continuing. "Shit, Paul. What do you think your kid's gonna turn into in another fifteen years, give or take? This storm's been here a while, and I've been caught in it too long. It's time I find some shelter."

That did it.

Foregoing the shells and pebbles littered around his toes, his eyes jumped up to search hers. He hoped those words were just empty threats—she could see this _need_ reflected back at her—and yet she watched as he slowly realized the truth she spilled.

The creases that feathered from the corners of his eyes dissolved. The plane of his forehead smoothed. His stern jaw slackened when he took the slightest step toward her—his hand lifting with intent, the back of his finger desperate to brush away the strand of hair resting against her sunken cheek.

But he stopped short, his stuttered words picking up where his actions failed. "Yuh- you're leaving?"

"There's nothing here for me anymore."

"But, Lee… Where will you go?" _This_ was Paul begging. Reasoning. Trying to get her to reconsider. They both understood. Given the current situation—his son… Bella…his desire to be a better father, the role model he never had—_this_ was all he had left for her.

These fleeting moments in time when their eyes met and the love still passed between them.

But it wasn't something Leah could live with any longer. He taught her how much she could take, how much weight she could carry…and she found her breaking point.

"Maybe I'll go see what captured your attention in Canada last year."

"I…" Pulling his hand back to run it through his hair, he tried again. "This is all my fault. I- I'm sorry I did this to us."

She shook her head. "You gotta stop. No more apologies. We can't keep this up, acting like there's nothing between us. It's not fair to anyone. You chose _both_ of them, so you have to be present—mind, body, and spirit. Your kid deserves all of his daddy." Looking over Paul's shoulder, Leah watched his wife pack up miscellaneous birthday supplies. "And Bella deserves a fair shot at your heart."

"But she'll never be you, Lee." His whisper was quiet and would've easily been lost in the whipping wind had her hearing not been sharpened by the wolf.

Grazing a finger along his forearm, she told him everything would be okay, that her decision was for the best. She consoled him with empty promises and featherlight touches meant to last a lifetime, before turning to leave the beach, running in the opposite direction of the gathering.

"_One day I hope we'll both be as happy as you pretend to be when you're with them."_

The last words she spoke haunted him as he returned to his son's first birthday, a grin plastered on his face but no light shone behind his eyes—his mask in place to appease the masses.

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_*Alright, hit me with your thoughts and feels—if ya wanna. ;) _


	3. Crisscrossing Lines

**Suggested Listening:** _"Recreational" by Aaron Krause_

_**Author's Note**_**:** This is installment 3 of 5.

I was recently on the auction block as an author over at Tricky Raven and, for the next couple of weeks, will be busy writing a one-shot for my winning bidder. If time permits, I plan to work on the 4th installment of this _Crossed Lines_ series as well. Otherwise, I'll update once I've completed the story for the auction.

BTW, there are several auction pieces already posted (as well as banners made by amazing artists) on Tricky Raven. If you aren't already a member, you should definitely check out the site. Tell them I sent ya! ;)

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**Crisscrossing Lines**

* * *

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows pressed hard into knees, Paul cupped his head.

He never meant for this to happen, never meant to be this kind of man.

The kind that hurts people, that breaks trust. The kind that fractures things—promises, vows, hearts.

Fractures families.

He never meant to be the kind that leaves.

But living a lie wasn't fair to anyone. Not to him. Not to Bella.

Especially not to their son.

It was time he stopped taking the easy path in life. Because martyrs aren't strong. They aren't selfless.

Martyrs are weak. Martyrs avoid the fight, they give up, they self-sacrifice so they're deemed heroes instead of quitters.

Paul was tired of being a martyr.

Working odd jobs—general labor for hire—he spent the solitary hours reflecting, lost in thought.

He contemplated the course of his life. The choices made.

Days often passed, lapsing the time between phrases uttered to his wife. More days existed than sentences spoken in their two and half year marriage.

But he imagined countless conversations with Leah. Ones where she would laugh at some remark he made solely for her amusement. Ones where they talked about their future and what would happen when they stopped phasing.

Paul was his truest self around her.

And in her unapologetic way, she made him feel safe.

Accepted.

Loved.

His desire for her never lessened. As time and distance grew, so did his love.

Leah was the one he pictured the day he stood before family and friends, repeating his vows to Bella…

To _Bella_.

His wife.

She had to understand—the longing he felt never was hers. This deep, intense yearning.

It was never _hers_.

But his son…

That was the hardest part.

Walking into the living room, Paul scooped up the toddler.

His boy, barely a day over two, could never grasp the gravity of the situation. But Paul knew happiness was a requirement.

Never wanting to be a weekend dad, he tried to make the marriage work. He couldn't stand the thought of being absent from the boy's life, or worse, some other man raising his son. Paul needed to be involved. He needed a chance to right the wrongs of his father.

This decision didn't change any of that.

Bella would understand. She wasn't the type to keep their child from him.

She also wasn't the type to walk down the aisle—all those shitty boyfriends her mother traipsed around made sure of that—but since the baby carried the wolf gene, and since she wasn't an imprint, the council demanded they make it official.

Hell, if she was Quileute, he could've convinced the old farts to keep their mouths shut. But as it was, nothing tied her to rez other than him. Hoping she'd stay just to raise their child together wasn't something any of them could count on, especially Paul. Because, like he learned long ago, only pain comes from high expectations.

Toting his son down the hall, he glanced at the closet where, last night, he stashed a packed bag. Retracing the steps that led to this decision, he reassured himself this was the only option.

He _had_ to.

Because he refused to tell another lie to the rosey-cheeked toddler in his arms.

If he wasn't really leaving, Paul refused to say goodbye.

And he refused for months. Until he acknowledged their home, their son's life, was built on a lie—the rocky foundation of a broken marriage.

Entering the room filled with airplanes and racecars, he placed his child on the vibrant alphabet squares and knelt beside the boy.

Big, brown eyes, framed by the thick lashes of youth, looked up expectantly. Short, chubby fingers offered a favorite car, requesting him to stay a while.

Accepting the toy, Paul crossed his legs and _vroomed_ into the land of make-believe.

While there, he talked of the new life that would come with the morning sun. He explained how sometimes—just like the trains on the model railroad set—people needed to leave. That sometimes, daddies needed to spend time away in order to fix things that broke elsewhere. But he made sure the toddler understood the tracks always stayed connected, and the trains were never far from the station.

Never far from home.

Even if, sometimes, it felt like they were.

They played this way for hours, Paul delaying the inevitable, not wanting to let go, until Bella came to tuck their son in for the night.

_Nothing_ was as hard as this.

He pulled the boy to his chest, cradling his head and tightly hugging his body. With eyes closed, Paul inhaled his son's scent into memory.

A slight frown marring her brow, teeth pressed into her full lip, Bella assessed these peculiar actions.

This decision was Paul's alone; he never discussed it with her—never needed to because she wouldn't object, that was certain.

This was a fight neither wanted to engage in.

A final kiss to his son's hairline and Paul retreated to the living room, grabbing the stowed bag along the way.

Awaiting Bella's arrival, he stared at his hands. No ring interrupted the flow of scarred skin along his finger. He stopped wearing it months ago. And she never showed concern.

This part was easier—like a guillotine, it was quick.

Hearing the shuffle of her steps, the rustle of her clothing, Paul looked up to see Bella staring at the duffle bag positioned near the door.

Her eyes flicked to his. And she waited without expression—no question in her eyes, no quiver to her lips.

"This is it. We tried, but this life isn't good for either of us"—Paul looked over her shoulder, gaze locked on the colorful door down the hall—"For any of us."

Bella didn't object—just like he expected. She never tried to stop him, to reach for him. Never shed a tear—only offering a nod in response to their severed marriage.

A nod in response to the truth.

Paul left his keys on the table by the door when he walked out into the night.

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_*Alright, hit me with your thoughts and feels—if ya wanna. ;)_


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